


Five Times Andrew Sees Coulson and Skye Doing Nice Things For Each Other

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Andrew POV, Andrew is totally a romantic, Canon Disabled Character, Coulson & Skye as team parents, Coulson & Skye get a dog, Coulson and Skye like doing nice things for each other, Coulson and his ridiculous crush on Skye, F/M, Kissing, Shooting Range, Skye and her matching crush on Coulson, mention of oral sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(and one time he also does something nice for them)</p><p>It all strikes him as disgusting and romantic, and he imagines that Melinda will roll her eyes when they finally decide to share.</p><p>Andrew, though, he’s pretty disgusting and romantic.</p><p>(You have to be when you keep a picture of your ex-wife on your desk for almost a decade, when you hold out hope that she’ll come back, when you want to chase after her but you don’t because you know she needs the space.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Andrew Sees Coulson and Skye Doing Nice Things For Each Other

1.

Phil wears t-shirts for the first several weeks he’s out of bed.

Andrew actually helps him practice putting them on by laying out the fabric on his lap and dropping the residual limb through the sleeve.

It’s an accomplishment when he feels capable of dressing himself in tshirts and sweats, when he can go about his life without help in this most basic function.

But it’s not suits.

It’s obvious that he doesn’t feel quite like himself, like he’s missing his uniform.

As it turns out, it’s obvious to Skye, too.

“I know he doesn’t want help, but I just think he’d feel so much better if he were in a suit,” she tells Andrew, stretched out along the couch in the office he’s claimed.

For as many issues as Skye has had with therapy, it’s pretty remarkable to see her so relaxed in here. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel good about that, but he tries not to pat himself on the back too hard, especially since he knows Melinda has done a lot to make this easier.  

“I don’t disagree with you,” he admits, “but this isn’t —”

“I know, I know,” she waves him off. “We’re supposed to focus on me.”

Skye frowns, though, unhappy with this.

“Do you want to tell me why it is that you’re so concerned with Director Coulson’s emotional state?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She’s somewhere between defensive and confused, one step before she starts closing off.

“Director Coulson’s happiness isn’t your responsibility, Skye.”

She swallows, looks like she wants to argue, but nods.

“I know. I know I can’t manage someone else’s feelings.”

They’ve had this conversation a lot about her father, about how it’s not her responsibility to make him better, not her responsibility to make other people happy.

And she’s the kind of person who’s emotionally mature enough to understand these things, to give that kind of advice to a friend. But he also knows that someone with Skye’s background will have a hard time overcoming behaviors meant to manage the emotions of those around her.

It’s been a defense mechanism for her for so long, her way of trying to make sure she didn’t overstay her welcome or set off someone’s short temper.

(And she’s told him, so sincerely, that SHIELD was just trying to save her life when she was a child. He knows she believes it. But he can’t look at her file and not be horrified that the organization would put a child through so much emotional trauma, whatever the reason.)

He’d like to see her worry less about other people and more about herself.

“But it’s Coulson,” she tells him. “I don’t want to manage his feelings. I just…”

“What?”

“I just want him to be happy.”

It makes Andrew smile, how much she means that.

“You’re a good person, Skye, and there’s nothing wrong with helping someone when you can. But I want you to treat your own feelings, your own recovery, as the most important thing. Don’t let the fact that you care about Coulson overshadow it.”

She nods, and they turn to other things — to her father, her complex feelings there, the way she’s fitting together all these pieces of herself that she’s uncovered.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, though, he’s not surprised when Coulson comes the next week dressed in a suit and tie, looking more relaxed than he’s seen the man in the weeks since he lost his hand.

“Looking good, Phil,” Andrew compliments him. Even his tie is perfect — straight knot centered at the base of his throat.

“Thanks.”

He sits down on the couch with a little thump, still not exactly graceful, but he’s getting better at this.

“How did you manage?”

“Skye bought me a tool to help with buttons.”

“And the tie?”

“Youtube,” he answers, a tiny quirk of a grin. “She found some tutorials.”

“You could have found those yourself,” Andrew points out. He could have done this himself, could have made a lot of this easier on himself, but he fought it. Hell, to say he _fought_ it implies being too active. The Director’s just been a low level of passively depressed, letting things happen, doing only enough to get by.

“I could have,” he agrees.

“Why do you think you didn’t?”

“I didn’t want to admit that I needed that kind of help.”

“Which kind?”

Coulson swallows, like something painful is stuck in his throat.

“These are tools and strategies for disabled people. And I just didn’t…”

Andrew stays silent, watches his patient struggle through his emotions.

“It’s admitting that my life is different now. That this isn’t some temporary thing, that I can’t go back to the way things were.”

“Aren’t you going to get a prosthesis?”

“I am,” Coulson agrees. “But now I’m thinking maybe I’ll wait. To make sure I’m not pinning too much of my identity on a robot hand.”

“Even with that hand, your life will be different.”

“That’s what I’m finally accepting.”

“And how does that feel?”

“Honestly? Not too bad,” he answers, sort of smiling and running his right hand down his tie.

Andrew thinks maybe he should send Skye some flowers or a muffin basket or a new external hard drive for making his job a lot easier.

 

2.

“I’m thinking of talking to Skye about getting a dog,” Coulson throws in towards the end of their session.

“A dog?”

Andrew’s thrown for a bit of a loop because he’s never heard Skye express much of an interest in a pet. In fact, with her schedule, it seems like a downright bad idea.

“For Fitz,” Coulson adds.

Which, strangely, makes a lot more sense.

“I think a pet would be good for Fitz,” Andrew suggests — as much as he’ll really tell Coulson about his sessions with the rest of the team. “But you’re going to talk to _Skye_ about it?”

“If we did it, she and I would be responsible for a lot of the care. Like trips to the vet.”

And his mind is obviously moving a little slowly today if it took him this long to catch on. Cal — Doctor Winslow — has been gone from the vault for a little over a week. By and large Andrew is pleased with Skye’s progress on that front.

“You want to know if that’s something Skye would like, the chance to visit her father.”

“Do you think it’s something I should bring up?”

“I think you shouldn’t ask her to make that choice until she’s seen her father at least once, to decide if it’s something she can handle.”

Coulson looks deep in thought at that, probably deciding if they can plan a chance meeting.

“What about you, Phil? How does getting a dog relate to you?”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

His patient at least as the good grace to flush a little, to acknowledge that they’ve talked about this — about the need to keep sessions focused on him.

Given half a chance, the man would probably just talk about Skye for an hour at a time.

“I just want Skye to be happy, and I think having an excuse for regular visits with her father might help. And I think she’d enjoy making Fitz happy, too, by getting a dog.”

“You had a dog when you were young, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Coulson agrees. “Bucky.”

Andrew has to bite the inside of his cheek because he remembers this now — Melinda had dragged this story out of a drunk Phil one night, back in a different life. He’d spoken fondly about dressing up as Captain America and running around with his dog and best friend Bucky.

He and Melinda had laughed a little too hard at the image that drew up.

“My parents rescued him from a shelter when he was three years old, and brought him home on my seventh birthday.”

“And now you have the chance to make someone happy, like your parents did for you.”

“Fitz will like it,” Coulson agrees, which brings Andrew up only a little short. “He’s wanted a pet for the entire time he’s been on this team.”

“And you and Skye can give that to him.”

He waits for Coulson to see incongruity in that image, of the two of them in a co-parenting role, but Coulson just nods.

Maybe there isn’t incongruity at all.

 

* * *

 

“How did your visit go?”

“Really well,” Skye answers as she lounges back on the sofa.

“He didn’t remember you at all?”

“No,” she shakes her head, and he thinks maybe there’s a flash of pain. “That’s good, though. The programming is holding, and it means that he...he can have what he wanted. He can be a good man.”

“And do you think you’re going to be able to handle future trips?”

“Coulson told you about the dog thing, didn’t he?”

She sounds almost exasperated, but also pleased.

“He told me he was considering bringing it up with you.”

“He did.”

“And? Are you and Director Coulson going to be gracing the Playground with a puppy?”

“I think we are. Fitz’s birthday is next month, and we thought maybe we’d wait for that. Plus, that way I can see Doctor Winslow one more time just to…make sure.”

“It must be a hard thing, to see him and have him not recognize you.”

She nods and presses her lips together, like she’s holding something in.

“Coulson told me about his mother. That she stopped recognizing him in the year before she died.”

Phil has never shared that with him, or _anything_ about his parents' deaths. 

“I suppose that put like that, it’s not so uncommon.”

“And at least I know he’s happy, you know?”

It _almost_ irritates him, how easily she processes this, how willing she seems to find the bright side in a dark situation. He wants her to deal with this stuff, and he worries that when she finds the silver lining, what she’s really doing is ignoring her own pain.

“I can see how it would help to know he’s happy.”

“It really does.” She’s so earnest, like she knows he doesn’t quite believe her. “It means we made the right decision, and that I don’t have to worry about him.”

He smiles at her, tries to take this as the good thing she wants it to be.

“Tell me about the TAHITI programming, then. The man he is now…”

“His personality is his own.”

“His own before…”

“Before he went nuts? Yeah.”

She smiles, goes for the humor to deflect the intensity, but then she swallows and gets more pensive — and these are the moments when he can really feel how much progress they’ve made.

“I want to know him. Who he really is, you know?”

“I do.”

“Coulson was really sweet to think about getting a dog.”

She swallows, like maybe that was too much to say.

“He cares a lot about you.”

She looks visibly awkward about that, always uncomfortable talking about the intense relationship she and Coulson share. For two people willing to talk about the other all day, they’re both cagey about definitions, about framing their relationship.

“Yeah, and it’ll be nice to do something for Fitz, too.”

“Will it?”

“He…” She pauses, and a deep frowns settles over her features. “After his injury, I didn’t help him as much as I should have. He barely even wanted to look at any of us for so long, you know? And once I...changed, he was really great.”

“He stood by you more than anyone else.”

“Anyone except Coulson,” she agrees.

“Has anyone ever given you a pet before?”

“Me? No. But one of the foster homes I was in, we got a cat for the whole family.” She smiles, one part wistful to three parts happy. “There were five of us. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley brought it home, and we were all really excited.”

“And now you and Coulson are going to do that for someone.”

Skye meets his eyes, and maybe there’s a hint of challenge there. At least she’s acknowledged to herself what the implications of them making this decision are — more than the Director has.

“Where are you and May going for your vacation?”

Which is the sign that they’re done for the day.

 

3.

Since the surgery for the prosthesis, Coulson’s not had an easy time of it.

Andrew understands, at least he understands in theory, that the pain was intense, maybe more intense that the original amputation. And he’s of the opinion that you can never really understand another person’s pain, that there’s a subjective nature to that experience that can’t really be touched, but he can imagine. He can try to empathize.

And the physical therapy has been long and slow. Learning to use the new hand hasn’t been a piece of cake.

Perhaps the thing that has annoyed Coulson the most has been how slowly he’s making progress with shooting. Really it's just part of establishing baseline competencies for a field agent, and he misses being in the field.

“It’s not that I was ever the best marksman,” Coulson tells Andrew, and it must be something that’s bubbled past the breaking point because this isn’t their session, isn’t even their day. “I was never the best, but I was better than this,” he repeats, his robotic hand clenching and unclenching on his knee.

He’s not being modest, not exactly. Director Coulson has never had top marks in any field activities, which is why Melinda and Skye head up field operations.

But Coulson was always more than capable, good enough at a wide range of fighting techniques to hold his own. And now, he’s struggling to relearn things.

“Do you think it’s more than relearning the muscle memory?”

“I don’t know.”

Obviously Coulson _does_ think it’s more than physiological, or he wouldn’t have bothered bringing it up.

“Would you like me to come observe you on the firing range?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Coulson tells him easily, which is _almost_ surprising. But the Director is getting better and better at asking for help, at accepting his new body and looking for ways to make it work for him.

“I’ll meet you in the firing range after lunch,” Andrew promises.

 

* * *

 

Skye beats him to the range, as it turns out.

When Andrew approaches, holding a clipboard with some basic notes about Coulson’s recovery, she’s already standing next to him, wearing matching protective ear coverings and watching him fire consistently to the left of the target.

Even though maybe he shouldn’t, Andrew hangs back and watches. Coulson had asked for his opinion after all. 

Once Coulson has emptied the clip, he sets down the gun and turns towards Skye, frustration evident in every line of his body.

Andrew can’t hear what she says as she tugs her earmuffs down her neck, as Coulson does the same, but she lightly taps his arm in a way that suggests she’s trying to offer advice.

Coulson nods and rolls his shoulders, as though trying to loosen up, and then picks up the gun.

And then she steps up behind him, molds her body to his back, slides her arms along his, and physically corrects his posture as he holds the unloaded gun.

He can see Coulson’s whole body shaking slightly from across the room, until Skye rises up on her tiptoes and presses her lips near his ear. Andrew can only imagine she's whispering something, something encouraging, because when she pulls back, Coulson is steady, suddenly sure of himself.

They both pull on their earmuffs as he loads a new clip, and again Skye presses herself to his back and holds the posture with him.

Andrew almost blushes at what he’s seeing, almost turns around and leaves.

Except that Coulson fires off the whole clip, keeping each shot in the center of the target.

Skye’s arms stray from his, wrap tightly around his middle for a moment, and she presses her face to the middle of his back. 

When Coulson goes to set down the gun, though, she stops him, gestures down to the table where he's laid out his supplies. He follows orders and reloads, and then Skye backs away, leaves him standing alone and unaided as he takes his stance and squeezes off the entire clip towards the target.

From where he’s standing, Andrew thinks it’s not _quite_ as good, but also much better than it was at first. Coulson is obviously pleased, though, and more than that he’s _relieved_ , as though he’s grasped ahold of another part of himself.

There’s a clatter as the emptied gun and the earmuffs are tossed aside, and then Coulson turns to Skye with bright eyes and a look too intense for colleagues. Which, on the one hand, is nothing out of the ordinary, but it occurs to Andrew how rarely he’s seen the two of them together.

It’s not like he socializes with the team very much, which would get a little sticky with professional codes of conduct. But then, standing at the back of the firing range and watching two of his patients stare at each other is questionable, too.

Still, it's hard to pass up the chance to observe them together.

As Andrew watches, Coulson slowly raises his left arm towards Skye’s face, as though he plans to cup her cheek, but catches himself halfway — eyes locked on his metallic hand. That happens sometimes, of course, a visceral shock when he sees it.

But before Coulson can react, before he can pull back or tense up, Skye catches his prosthetic hand and pulls it to her lips, lays a soft kiss against his knuckles —

Which is when the pen slips from Andrew’s clipboard, shockingly loud as it drops to the ground, and Skye and Coulson break apart and turn together to face him.

“It looks like maybe you’ve already found what you need,” Andrew offers, careful to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah,” Coulson agrees, though he’s looking at Skye.

 

4.

“I’m taking Skye to dinner on Saturday,” Coulson tells him, apropos of nothing.

“That sounds nice.”

“On a date.”

“I gathered that,” Andrew replies, raising an eyebrow. He’s not sure whether Coulson is looking for approval or advice, doesn’t want to offer any accidental judgment on this apparent new relationship.

Which, for the record, if someone were to ask his opinion, he’s very much in favor of. But no one has, so he’s keeping his mouth shut.

And then Director Coulson’s expression gets alarmingly open, alarmingly _scared_.

“Do you think what I feel for her is real?”

Phil Coulson has never exactly sat down and explicitly spelled out what his feelings for Skye are, but Andrew has got some good guesses.

“Do you have reason to believe they aren’t real?”

“Not reason so much as fear. Whatever is in me...we don’t know that it’s gone.”

“And whatever it is connects you to her.”

Coulson nods.

“Melinda makes it sound like the two of you were always very intense.”

“We were,” Coulson agrees. “I know May worried about that.”

“So then, perhaps nothing has changed.”

“But I had that stuff in me from the moment I met her. And she was always…”

If there’s something in Coulson that draws him to an Inhuman, to someone like Skye, it may have been there from the beginning.

“I think this isn’t something you can worry over,” Andrew finally decides. “I’ve seen no evidence that your attachment to Skye is detrimental to either of you.”

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Coulson acknowledges, and then touches his metal hand — right where Skye had pressed her lips to it yesterday.

“You owe it to yourself _and_ to Skye to explore this. But do it slowly.”

Coulson nods and exhales.

“I haven’t been nervous for a date like this since I was a teenager.”

“Because you’re out of practice?”

“I suppose I am. I haven’t been with anyone since before…” He trails off, touching his metal hand to his heart. “That was a different life. A different me.”

And call him a hopeless romantic (it wouldn’t be the first time), but Andrew can’t help but find it sweet.

 

* * *

 

Skye is giddy when he sees her the following Monday, almost dancing. She’s still on the high, the rush, of her date with Coulson.

“It was really good,” she tells him, sprawling backwards on his couch, and it feels a little like a slumber party, like this should be what she’s telling Doctor Simmons. Except that they aren’t telling anyone, are keeping this secret and between them while they explore it, so he supposes she has no one else to tell this to.

“I’m glad.”

He is. If he’s learned nothing else in the months he’s known her, it’s that Skye deserves to be happy.

“I’ve never been somewhere so nice before. I was so scared I would be uncomfortable all night, but it’s impossible to be uncomfortable with him.”

Andrew just smiles at her, at her bone-deep happiness. He hopes he’s made Melinda feel half of this, half this good about herself.

“I expected you to be more freaked out about this,” she tells him after a long moment of watching his expression, clearly looking for some trace of disapproval.

“Why would I be _freaked out_?”

“The age difference? The SHIELD hierarchy? The alien blood thing?”

“Do those worry you?”

“No,” she answers. “I think Coulson wishes I were more worried.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because he’s...he’s Coulson.”

As though that explains everything.

“I think that’s healthy,” he tells her. “There’s no use in being concerned about things you can’t control.”

“I trust him,” she tells Andrew, like this is some big revelation. “I’ve never…”

“You’ve never trusted someone?”

“No, I have,” she insists. “Just not like I trust him.”

It all strikes him as disgusting and romantic, and he imagines that Melinda will roll her eyes when they finally decide to share.

Andrew, though, he’s pretty disgusting and romantic.

(You have to be when you keep a picture of your ex-wife on your desk for almost a decade, when you hold out hope that she’ll come back, when you want to chase after her but you don’t because you know she needs the space.)

 

5.

He’s along on a Caterpillar mission — him, Coulson, and May under Skye’s leadership — because of a particularly troubled young boy with powers not unlike Skye’s. The plan was to get to him and offer him a way to control his powers.

Except, it turns out that there’s an Inhuman faction in play that got to him first, a lot of politics that it will take time to unravel. But however important all that politics is, today it has meant that a young man with deadly powers was more than happy to attack the team.

Skye had barely gotten them all out alive by forming a shield around them, and then she’d run back in, refused to take a gun or promise to do anything that might be lethal.

He understands the impulse — that whatever faction is trying to weaponize this boy’s powers probably doesn’t care much about his best interest. That it’s not his fault he was taken in by some dangerous people while he was at his most vulnerable.

It’s still terrifying to watch her go, and he wonders how Coulson can do it.

The answer is that he can’t do it very well, at least not like this — not when it’s a mission that’s gone exactly 100% wrong.

Coulson has been pacing the jet for nearly twenty minutes, Melinda has been loading ICERs and planning a strategy to get into the warehouse where they tracked the kid down, and he’s sitting around feeling useless.

It’s hard — harder than waiting back at the base — to wait here and know _exactly_ what kind of danger there is.

“If she’s not back in five minutes, I’m going in after her,” May tells them, looking down at her watch.

She slides one of the guns into a thigh holster and tightens the buckle.

And Andrew has never thought of Melinda May as a fragile woman — the very thought of it is laughable — but he’s suddenly terrified. Sometimes this happens, the reality of her job hits him, and when it comes to the idea of her walking into a building up against someone who can hurl boulders at her…

He wants to curl around her, wants to keep her out of danger, wants to take her back to the beach and kiss her until she melts into the sand.

Of course, he does none of those things. He doesn’t even go to her, not when she’s like this, not when that’s not what she wants. He just closes his eyes and breathes.

“I’m going in,” she announces finally, but her voice is quiet and close — she’s speaking directly to him.

“Do good, Melinda,” he manages, and she smiles, lays a soft kiss against his lips.

“I’ll come home,” she promises.

“You better.”

Which she does.

His heart leaps at the sight of her coming out of the rubble of the building only a few minutes later.

Skye walks with a limp, but she’s walking, and between them they support the weight of the unconscious boy. He and Coulson rush to them, collect the young man and take him back to the vibranium cell while the women pull off their holsters and body armor.

“This room is safe, right?” He asks Coulson, and he wonders if he’s compromised right now. There’s a reason he doesn’t come on these missions generally speaking — he’s better off staying back at the base where he’s a more neutral presence, concerned first and foremost with the new gifted person rather than the way that person might have endangered the team.

He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to be neutral about this boy after today.

“Yes,” Coulson agrees.

There are no straps, nothing to make his new patient feel like a prisoner should he wake up on the trip. Even the room is nicer, the vibranium covered with a decorative facade that makes it look less like a prison.

Skye had insisted that it was worth the cost, worth the necessary upkeep, and he tends to agree.

“He’s secure,” Coulson repeats, and Andrew isn’t actually sure who he’s reassuring.

Together, they walk back towards the hangar.

“It’s not broken,” Skye tells May as she removes her jacket, leaving her in a white tank top and black pants. “I’m okay.”

May nods once and then turns to the cockpit. She pauses, eyes Andrew in a way that silently asks if he’s okay, and he nods.

He knows this drill, that she won’t fully relax until they’re in the air, until this mission is a little further behind them, so he just straps himself in and lets her have the space she needs to decompress.

He sits in the jump seats with Coulson and Skye during takeoff, but as soon as the plane is remotely level, Coulson is out of his seat and pulling Skye out of hers.

“I want to look at your leg,” he announces.

“It’s fine.”

“Skye,” he whispers, suddenly way too intimate. “Please?”

She seems to be as bad at saying ‘no’ to him as he is to her, and the two disappear into the medical area — just a small cabin room with a table and first aid kits.

Probably ten minutes pass, ten minutes of level flying, and he wants nothing more than to join Melinda in the cockpit. But he knows her, and he knows that at moments like this, she needs to be the one to come to him.

It’s not that she’s not a comforting person — she is actually, she’s warm and kind and everything he could want in a partner. But when she has to put on this persona, this icy face that gets her through tough days, the one that got her into the boys clubs (although SHIELD is certainly not that anymore)... Well, she needs time to take it off. She needs time to be ready to be herself again.

But she will be ready, she will come to him.

Instead, he walks to the med bay door and peaks inside, wanting to make sure Skye is really okay.

She’s leaning against the medical bed, still in her white tank top.

At first he thinks Coulson is examining her leg, kneeling at her feet as he takes off boots, but it quickly becomes clear that Coulson’s mouth is latched onto her thigh, just above the top of her pants, which he’s worked down almost to her knees.

Andrew doesn’t know why he’s shocked — on some level he knew they were in a sexual relationship — but he is; he’s _shocked_. It’s the only explanation for why he lingers long enough to see Skye thread her fingers through Coulson’s hair and direct his mouth up until it’s pressed up between her thighs.

Coulson follows easily, parting his lips against her panties as his fingers fly up to her hips to pull them down, and Andrew pulls away and lets the door close softly behind him.

“How is she?” May asks him, and he almost jumps at the sound of her voice.

Quickly, he positions himself in front of the door, preventing her from getting in but trying to be nonchalant about it.

Of course, Melinda is the spy, not him, so he’s not sure how successful that move is.

“She’s fine,” he promises. “Nothing broken, and Coulson is seeing to her.”

Melinda nods, and before she can throw another suspicious look at the door he leans in and kisses her.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers against her lips. “You know that, don’t you?”

“You could always show me,” she answers, letting herself be led backwards, away from Skye and Coulson.

He won’t feel good keeping their secret from her forever, not when she cares about them so much, but he’ll do this for them now.

Besides, it’s never a hardship to show Melinda how much he loves her.

 

 


End file.
